Infiltration
by weemcg33
Summary: Clint is sent in to prison to take out a target who just happens to be an Ex-SHIELD agent. But while inside he bumps into someone from his past, will Clint be able to complete his mission and make it out alive? Rated T for Language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Avengers or anything else whatsoever, except my laptop…..and my pictures…..my DVD collection…I could go on but I think I'll stop now ;)

**Authors Note**: This idea literally smacked me in the face the other day, it hurt….just so you know LOL.

Clint is sent to prison to take out a target that just so happens to be an ex SHIELD agent who defected. But Clint never expected to bump into someone from his past…..will he be able to complete his mission and make it out alive?

Only one way to find out :)

* * *

_I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what._ - Harper Lee

* * *

"You're sending me to prison?" Clint glared between his handler and director Fury, hoping that they were about to start laughing and tell him this was a joke, because really that was all this could be. A sick joke.

But instead, Phil looked away not meeting his eyes and Fury just glared at him with his one good eye.

_Great_.

"I know this isn't your usual type of assignment Barton. But…"

Clint scoffed at the director and started pacing in the large office. "Your damn right this isn't my usual mission. You're sending me into a fucking prison. Where there are lots of murderers and sicko's." He stopped pacing and threw his hands up in the air dramatically. "Tell you what, why don't I just take them all out. Might as well while I'm there, right? It will probably make my job easier, take the criminals out before they are let back out into the streets. Fish in a barrel and all that."

Fury glared at the archer before turning to Phil with a look that said 'do something'!"

"Clint…" Phil stopped when the archer spun to face him, he had never seen the kid look so on edge before. He watched as his young charge took a few calming breaths before seeming to get himself under some sort of control.

"This man needs to be taken out. He is an ex Agent from SHIELD and he disappeared almost three years ago. Since then he has managed to stay hidden, he knows he would be taken out if we ever caught up to him. This just happens to be the first time he's shown up on our radar since then." Phil slid the file containing all the information they had across the table to Clint.

The archer sighed and flipped open the folder. He glanced at the photo secured to the first page, the man looked to be in his thirties, short blonde hair, a scar running down his left eye and over his cheek and a noticeable tattoo that spread from his shoulder and up the side of his neck, it looked like a tribal design and Clint found himself wondering how long it might have taken to finish. He shook his head, the guy certainly didn't look like a SHIELD agent now, and continued reading the file.

Fury looked over at Phil and sighed, he knew the older agent wasn't at all happy with this decision but Fury had no one else better experienced than Clint that could blend in once in the jail, after all he had been in jail before. But it was also that the archer excelled at staying hidden, he was a distance assassin and no one saw him or had a chance to remember his face, and the plus side was that Dexter didn't know Clint, he'd been brought in after he went rogue and who would think a young man of twenty-two, but looked younger, would be an experienced assassin. He knew Clint could take this guy out.

Clint looked up from the file and flipped it closed. He glanced over at Phil with a raised eyebrow, his handler gave him a brief nod and Clint smiled before gripping the file in his right hand and heading for the door.

Fury glanced between the two men, damn he hated when they did that.

Phil waited till the door shut and turned to face the director. His eyes were hard as he glared at Fury. This was one of those times he wished he could just wrap the kid up in cotton wool and protect him from the world, but that was wishful thinking.

Fury cleared his throat. "I know you're not happy with this Phil. But believe me I didn't make this decision lightly. The kid is the best we've got and you know it, he'll get this done."

Phil knew there wasn't much else he could say to try to change the director's mind. The man Clint was being sent after was called Dexter Loran, he went rogue and gave away SHIELD Intel to the people the agency was fighting against. Fury had to arrange for new codes for every base and wipe Dexter off all their systems. But he still had other classified information and could have easily passed it on, they had no way of knowing to who though and that's why Clint was being sent in and Phil had no doubt that he should be taken out. He just wished it didn't have to be Clint.

* * *

Clint headed for the training gym, he needed to work off some of the anger that was building up inside him. Pushing the door to the gym open with a little more force than was probably necessary, his eyes were immediately drawn to the punch bag where one of the other agents was busy pummeling the bag as if his life depended on it.

The archer walked over to his locker first and put the file there for safe keeping, he had been tempted to just chuck it in the trash on his way here but he was sure Phil wouldn't be too happy with him. And if there was one person in this place that he actually cared about opinion of him, it was his handler Phil Coulson.

The man literally saved him, he gave him a chance to be better and not just a petty criminal he had been turning in to. The handler had seen something in him and Clint still wasn't sure what he'd seen but he was eternally grateful. Phil had gotten him out of jail and turned his life around, he would never be able to make it up to the man, but he would damn well try.

Clint changed into his shorts and light grey t-shirt and headed for the punch bag. He almost smiled when the agent turned and was probably about to tell him to wait his turn, but he saw who it was and the scowl plastered on the archers face and gave him a brief nod before heading to the showers.

He started slowly at first, a right hook, then a left, then a right, right and left. Clint focussed his whole energy on his target, a smile spreading on his lips as he envisioned Fury's face every time he hit the bag. He wasn't entirely sure what had him so riled up about this mission, perhaps it was the fact that it was in jail, again. Or maybe that he was a distance assassin for a reason, Clint preferred the distance. He saw everything better. But this mission was putting him right in the middle of a prison filled with the scum of the earth, people he would usually be sent after and take out with great pleasure.

But during this assignment he would be weapon less, surrounded by other killers, and have no back-up. If anything went wrong he would be 'up shit creek without a paddle'. And Clint didn't like having crappy odds being stacked against him.

He frowned when he punched the bag so hard his hand actually hurt.

_This was going to suck_!

He didn't bother looking over his shoulder when the door to the training gym swung open, he knew who it would be. Phil stopped a few feet from him, just watching. Probably searching for the right words, Clint thought.

After a few more hits on the bag he turned to his handler. The man stood watching him with concern, he looked down at Clint's hands and arched an eyebrow.

"Where are your gloves?" He motioned to the blood now covering Clint's knuckles.

The archer looked at his own hands and frowned. He hadn't realised his knuckles were bleeding. "I didn't need them." He said firmly and headed to his locker. Phil followed and just as he almost reached the edge of the mat Phil grabbed his arm and spun him around.

Clint reacted on instinct and went on the offence, as he turned he already had his hand clenched into a fist and aimed at Phil's head, the older agent was almost caught off guard but moved back just in time to feel the air shift just in front of his face.

His young charge met his eyes and Phil realised that Clint was no longer bothered about heading to the lockers. Coulson blocked and dodged the next few punches aimed for his face, he knew the kid just needed to blow off some steam and he would happily help him out. It was better than Clint going up against the director, because he had no doubt the kid would if given the chance.

Phil let his guard down for a split second and caught a fist to the side of the head, he staggered back a step and Clint actually looked shocked that he'd managed to hit him. Phil cocked an eyebrow at the young agent and motioned him towards him.

"Come on then, show me what you got." It was Clint's turn to arch an eyebrow at his handler and he dropped into his fighting stance and smiled. This was going to be good.

Clint aimed another hit towards Phil's face but the older agent blocked it easily, then Phil struck out with a hit of his own, Clint dodged it and kicked his leg out, aiming for the side of Phil's leg. Phil twisted and just managed to catch the foot before it connected, he tried to flip Clint onto his back but the archer was never one to be underestimated, as Phil lifted his leg, Clint had his hands out ready to carry him into a back-flip, he vaulted easily back onto his feet and stood there smirking at Phil.

The older agent shook his head smiling, Clint loved to use his acrobatic skills in a fight. It made his unpredictable and deadly. Phil couldn't hope to pull off even half the moves Clint managed. Then they were suddenly a blur of motion, hands feet and elbows. The handler managed to get one lucky hit to connect with the archer and it was only after the younger man had decked him on the mat that he got an elbow to the archer's stomach. Clint grunted but rolled backwards and onto his feet. He glared at Phil while rubbing his stomach, Phil chuckled.

"If you can't take it, don't dish it out."

Clint huffed, then smiled at the older man. "You're getting better Phil. I told you eating more than a salad would make you strong."

Phil laughed. "I usually only eat the salad because there is nothing left after you've picked what you want."

Clint smiled and puffed out his chest. "But I am a growing boy."

Phil patted his arm. "Yes, yes you are."

Clint grinned, he felt better now. Making his way to the locker he grabbed the file and walked back over to Phil. The handler arched an eyebrow. "I thought you would have binned it already?"

Clint laughed. "Almost did. Then I thought it might piss you off, so I restrained myself."

Phil smiled and shook his head. The kid was something else, last time he'd been given an assignment he wasn't happy with he had walked out of Fury's office and threw the file in the nearest trash can, Phil hadn't been pleased but he'd understood why Clint was annoyed, the mission was a tad shitty for the archer, it had been a test though and Clint had done the mission anyway, proving he could take whatever the director tossed at him.

Phil gripped the back of the Clint's neck affectionately, the kid was only twenty-two and had been with SHIELD for two and a half years now. He trained for the first six months and was then given his first assignment, he was just that good. Phil couldn't believe it had been over two years already and the archer was quickly becoming the best agent he had ever had the pleasure of knowing or working with. The kid had a wicked sense of humour and kept Phil on his toes most of the time, and he also wasn't afraid to bang heads with the director. Phil was sure that even with the amount Fury moaned the face off him about Clint, he was very aware of how talented the boy was and how deadly he could be if he'd been on the wrong side.

Phil was suddenly smacked in the face with the possibility of why Clint was so pissed with this mission, he'd been released from prison by Phil's doing and now he was being sent back.

He turned to Clint. "What's got you so riled about this mission Clint?"

Clint sighed and stopped just outside the door to his room. He leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. "I just don't like being sent on a mission where I don't have all the details, all the possible scenarios. I mean I could go in there Phil and the 'shit could hit the fan' and there would be nothing you could do to help. I'd be alone."

Phil nodded. "I get it Clint. And I promise I will not be sending you in there without a good back up plan. I like this about as much as you do."

Clint gave his handler a smile. "I know Phil. And thanks for always looking out for me."

"That's what I'm here for Clint."

Clint gave him a knowing look and Phil frowned as he watched the kid open his door and step inside the room. "Night Phil."

"Goodnight Clint."

Phil headed back to his room, he had a feeling it was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers :(:(

Authors Note: Thanks to all those who have reviewed, **JRBarton, Hawaiichick, Lollypops101, Kimbee** and **Bookdancer**, you made me very happy this morning :)

And because you made my day here is another chapter!

Enjoy!

As it turned out he was right, Phil tossed and turned for the next two hours before finally giving up and heading outside to the roof. It was cold outside and he was glad he'd thought to bring a jacket. He stepped out into the night and sighed. Then made his way round to his usual spot and froze at the silhouette of a familiar figure sitting on the wall, legs dangling over the edge.

Phil made his way over quietly, he knew the young archer would already be aware of his presence, he always was. Phil stopped next to him, and looked out at the lights shining from the city. He glanced sideways at the young archer, he was sitting stiffly and Phil frowned when he realised he was shaking, his whole body had tiny tremors running through it.

Placing his hand gently on Clint's shoulder he was surprised when he flinched and looked up at his handler in shock. Phil was about to comment on the fact he'd even managed to catch the archer off guard when Clint pulled his ear buds out and frowned up at Phil.

"What?" He asked, his tone a little hard.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, thought you'd heard me when I opened the door." Phil explained, he was glad when the young agent nodded in understanding.

He turned back to the view of the city but didn't put his ear buds back in, just left them dangling.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Phil sighed and moved to sit next to him on the wall, his own legs dangling over the side. Phil was never one who was afraid of heights but even he was wary of some of the stunts Clint could pull off.

"No. Which is how I ended up here. What about you?" Phil asked.

Clint frowned as he looked out into the darkness, how could he explain to Phil that he was scared, he really didn't want to go back to jail even if it was for a mission? When Clint had first been incarcerated and Phil had come offering him a new beginning Clint had though he was nuts, and that he must have had him confused with someone else. But Phil had been persistent and kept coming back until Clint finally agreed to go through the training. He wasn't sure how Phil knew about his skills with a weapon, not many people did. But when he had mentioned that he knew about Clint's past and his skills with a bow and arrow, Clint had finally realised how big an organisation SHIELD was.

Clint turned to look at Phil who was watching him with concern. Clint gave him a small smile, maybe he could tell him, Phil was more than just his handler, and he was a friend, a brother and was constantly looking out for him.

"I had a nightmare, about going back." He told him truthfully.

Phil sighed and put his arm around Clint shoulders. "I know you don't want to do this mission Clint and if I could get you out of it I would. But I think Fury is right about you being the best for the job, you are the most talented young man I have ever met, and I know if anyone can pull this mission off it would be you."

Clint nodded and smiled. "Could we not just blow the whole place up, might save everyone the trouble?"

Phil laughed. "If only it were that easy Clint."

Clint nodded, he wished it could be that easy. He had hated jail and he was in a minimum security prison, this one was going to be maximum security, murderers, rapists and serial killers would be in this prison and he would be there to take out one guy and get back out, in one piece. It was going to be anything but easy.

They sat in silence for the next hour, just silently supporting each other. When Phil finally moved to stand he held his hand out for Clint, the archer glanced at him and nodded then accepted the hand. He swung his legs over the wall and stood.

"You going to be alright kid?"

"Yeah. I think so."

Together they headed back inside, Phil just hoped that they would both manage to get some much needed rest, he was sure they were both going to need it.

* * *

It was a day later when Clint was on his way to the hangar to start his mission, Fury had organised Clint's back story, his crime and why he was being sent to the same maximum level prison that Dexter Loran was in. They had also come up with two plans to get the archer out once his mission was completed, the first was if he had finished and needed extraction, the second was if everything went to shit and he needed an extraction. Plus Phil would be nearby in case of any emergencies.

Clint almost made it to the hangar without any of the other agents saying anything inappropriate, Agent Peters was just walking out of the door to the hangar when he spotted Clint and smirked.

"I told you you'd be sent back eventually, the past always catches up with you Barton."

Clint froze, then turned to face the agent, his eyes narrowing in anger.

"Maybe they'll just leave you there, it's where you belong. I know I would."

Agent Peters very quickly found himself slammed up against the wall, the archer's forearm across his throat and a gun pressed into the side of his head. He looked into the younger agent's eyes and swallowed down the fear he was feeling. Maybe winding Barton up hadn't been his best decision. Clint flipped the safety off and glared at Peters.

"If I'm such back news Peters, I would have no problem taking you down for that comment." Clint removed his arm from the agent's throat but kept the gun pointed at his head. Peters coughed when the pressure was removed but kept absolutely still.

"Clint!"

Clint didn't bother turning to Phil, he simply relaxed his stance and holstered his weapon after putting the safety back on, he leaned in to whisper a few parting words. "I'll see you when I get back."

Agent Peters eyes widened and then he was quickly moving away down the corridor.

Clint turned to see his handler glaring at him. "What? The guy is a dick."

Phil huffed. "Was he a dick before or after you pointed a gun at his head?" Clint shot him a look that said, 'duh, I wouldn't have aimed my gun if he wasn't'.

Phil nodded and together they headed towards the jet. He eyed his young charge with worry, he wasn't sure Clint should be the one to do this, the kid had been in a dark place for the past few days since hearing about this mission. And he wasn't sure what frame of mind the archer would be in when he returned, all he knew was that he didn't want the kid going two steps back instead of forward. Phil had spent too much time getting the kids head back on straight and they still had a lot of work to do.

Clint turned to Phil after dropping his bag on the floor and looked for the first time like a young kid, and not a twenty-two year old assassin.

"You won't leave me in there will you?" Phil almost pulled him into a hug right then, the kid sounded so broken it hurt Phil to hear. Instead he stepped up to Clint and squeezed his shoulder.

"No, I won't leave you in there Clint. Trust me." Phil hoped the young man heard the sincerity in his words.

Clint just stared at him for a few minutes before slowly nodding. "Okay."

Phil stepped back. "I will be there in the next two days, try not to get into any trouble till then?"

Clint smiled and was about to turn away when Phil's hand on his arm stopped him, he looked at his handler in confusion.

"Just…..just be careful, alright?"

"I'll do my best Phil." Clint gave Phil a pat on his shoulder and stepped back.

Phil stayed until the jet had taken off and was nothing more than a dot in the distance. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before spinning on his heel and heading to see Agent Peters, it was about time the man got an earful from Coulson, and it might help Phil feel better too.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers...only the characters I put in my stories to play with them and knock them around a little (evil laugh)

Authors Note: Thanks for the reviews for the second chapter, **JRBarton, Kimbee, Bookdancer, DesignedByFate**. Really glad your enjoying it!

On to the next...enjoy!

**Texas State Penitentiary – Huntsville aka. Walls Unit**

Clint and three other men were marched into a shower room, made to strip out of their clothes, hosed down with freezing cold water, thrown their orange jump suit and told to change. He glanced at the other men next to him, one was shaking like a leaf and Clint was fairly certain he wouldn't last very long in this place. The other two men stood with confidence, they had either been in prison before or just weren't easily intimidated by the guards.

The first thing he had noticed was that he was the youngest. The man who would now be known as Shaky looked around thirty something while the other two looked to be in their forties. They eyed Clint carefully before giving him a brief nod, they didn't bother acknowledging the other man.

Two guards stood in front of them, both with their batons in hand. Clint knew for a fact he could take those two out in the blink of an eye but he was here for a reason and he had been told to try not to bring too much attention to himself. He was supposed to be invisible, they didn't need him getting injured fighting other inmates before he even got to Dexter.

"Lie on your stomachs!" One of the guards suddenly commanded.

Clint looked at the other two men, he was now convinced they'd been in prison before as they were already dropping to the floor to comply with the order, against everything screaming inside him, Clint followed suit. The third man, still shaking, was looking at the guards in full-blown fear, the guard that had spoken was now stepping up to the man, a gleam in his eye. Clint knew that look and looked away, the guy obviously wasn't moving quickly enough for them. He was hit across the head, then had his legs swiped out from under him. Shaky landed on his back with a thud and was then kicked in the side, effectively flipping him over onto his stomach.

He lay there groaning as the guard growled at him. "I don't ask twice! You do as you're told, as soon as you're told and we won't have any problems here. Alright ladies?"

He didn't expect an answer, and grinned back at the other guard who stood watching with his own smirk plastered on his face.

The Warden was a Walter Myers, Clint had read the brief on the man. He was ex-Military, didn't like anyone that disrespected him and anyone who did quickly found out why that was a bad idea. He had been running the Texas State Penitentiary for the past five years.

Walter walked in and didn't even glance at the four men lying face down on the floor, he just started talking. He'd obviously given this speech hundreds of times before. Clint started to tune him out within 3 seconds, the guy had the most boring voice he had ever heard and it would have put him to sleep if he'd been paying much attention. When he finally finished they were ordered to stand and he looked each one of them in the eye and told them if they so much as put a toe out of line, their life would be made unbearable.

Clint wasn't sure but he thought that Myers seemed to stare at him a little longer than the others, it was as if he knew what a pain in the ass Clint could be.

They were guided to their cells shortly after. Clint took in all the faces he could see on the way, he had Dexter's image imprinted in his brain, and he wouldn't forget it anytime soon. Once they stopped in front of the cell he would be occupying, he was nudged in with the baton in his back. Clint turned to glare at the guard but didn't say anything. Shaky was pushed into the cell two doors down, and was already crying to be let out. Clint shook his head and turned to face his cell mate. The man towered over him by about six inches, he didn't worry about that too much though, he had put taller guys than that down without a second thought.

"Hello cutie." The man greeted and moved closer, when he reached to touch Clint, the man found himself on his knees with the younger man standing over him. He had grabbed the larger man's hand, bending it back while applying a downward pressure, folding his hand and arm back till his knuckles touched his shoulder and pushed down.

The man let out a groan.

"Don't even try it big guy." Clint warned, and the man must have seen the darkness in the kid's eyes because he quickly pulled away and headed to the bottom bunk, muttering about just trying to be friendly.

Clint smirked and hopped up onto the top bunk. _Well now the fun really starts_.

* * *

Clint spent the next two days just trying to find out where Dexter was, he hadn't seen him in the yard, the mess hall or just heading back to his cell. He only found out by eavesdropping on two other inmates' conversation that Loran was in solitary for the next three days for fighting, he had broken one man's arm and given him a concussion, and the other he had stabbed in the side with a plastic knife after eating his food.

The young archer had almost groaned right then, _great now that made his life more difficult_. He had to stay out of trouble for the next three days and for Clint, that was definitely going to be a challenge.

As if just to prove his own point, Clint found himself surrounded by four very threatening looking guys. They obviously wanted to show off that they were the bosses around here. He took a fist to the face, which made him stagger back a few steps, two of the men started moving in from each side. He knew they were trying to subdue him while the other two could have their fun but Clint wasn't just going to stand back and let them.

He kicked the one in front of him in the stomach, causing him to double over. Then he focussed on the one on his left, he punched the guy in the face and ducked the punch aimed at his head from the guy on the right, Clint then kicked the guy in the knee making him cry out and fall clutching his injury. The guy on the left managed to grab Clint from behind in a bear hug but the young archer was used to this type of tactic, he threw his head back and smirked at the satisfying crunch of bone he felt and was quickly released as the man cradled his bloody nose.

"Little bastard broke my nose!" He grunted.

Clint smirked at the two who were left and arched an eyebrow at them.

They both looked at one another and seemed to come to a decision, unfortunately for Clint it wasn't the one he was hoping for. The both charged at him, one getting a lucky hit to his head while the other punched him in the stomach, probably getting him back for the kick to the stomach Clint thought.

Clint knew he was losing to these idiots but he still couldn't draw attention to himself by using his acrobatic skills and breaking their necks, then he'd be the one in solitary. So he realised he would have to take a bit of a beating, not that he'd make it easy for them.

He struck the one on his left with a quick jab to the throat, the man stumbled back holding his throat in pain, the other guy grabbed Clint by the throat and smacked his head back against the iron bars of one of the cells. Clint's vision whited out for a second and he felt another fist hit his face causing it to snap to the left.

Then suddenly the hands gripping him were gone and the only thing keeping him upright was the bars he was leaning against. He opened his eyes and was shocked to see the two guys that had come in to prison at the same time as him standing over the four guys, who all seemed to be groaning in pain on the floor. Clint frowned at them.

"Why?" Was all he could think to ask?

One stood over the other men while the other walked over and put Clint's arm around his shoulder and helped him back to his cell. It was slow going but the man never complained, just kept going until they were inside Clint's cell and helped him over to the bed.

"They won't come near you again, but for your own safety try not to go anywhere alone." He stood and glanced around the cell before his eyes locked back onto Clint's.

"You didn't answer my question." Clint eyed the man in confusion.

The guy smiled. "I'm Lucas, my cousin is the one downstairs with the other guys, he's Fredrik. And as for the why, you remind me of my nephew, he's just a kid too and I would hope that if anyone ever tried to attack him that someone would help."

Clint just nodded as if that explained it all. "Is he in prison too?"

Lucas nodded looking guilty. "Yeah, but not this one. He's in a minimum security prison, should be out in a year."

"He'll be fine, as long as he keeps his head down, he should be fine." Clint told him, he wasn't sure why he was trying to make the guy feel better, _maybe it was because he just saved your ass_. Clint shook his head, man that sounded like Phil inside his head.

Lucas cocked his head to the side. "How old are you kid?"

"I'm twenty-two and yeah I know, I don't look it." Clint reached up to touch his head and his fingers came away bloody. _Damn_. He looked back up at Lucas who was actually looking concerned for him. "Clint." He held his other hand out, since his right was now red.

Lucas smiled. "Well Clint, try and take it easy. I really hope I don't have to help you out of any more fights. But you did seem to be handling yourself pretty well."

Clint chuckled and stood, he wavered for a second before righting himself. "Thanks Lucas, and I hope you don't either." He didn't bother to comment on the fact he could have taken those guys but he needed people here to believe that he was just some kid that was doing time for a crime, and not a trained assassin here to take out a target.

Lucas gave him a nod and headed back out. "See you around kid."

Clint sat back on the bed with a groan, man he hurt all over. What had he been saying to himself before about staying out of trouble?

_Impossible_.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers

Authors Note: I want to thank all those who reviewed, **JRBarton, Hawaiichick, Lollypops101, Kimbee, Janechen88, DesignedByFate, R. **.

And also everyone that had added this story or myself to your favourites. You ALL rock!

This is also my first beta'd chapter, so a big thanks to DevinBourdain, your AWESOME!

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Phil frowned, as he watched the camera feed SHIELD had hacked into, at what was happening to his younger agent. Phil was sitting in the back of a black van with all the high-tech gadgets for surveillance. He couldn't hear anything but he didn't need to hear what was said to know that his charge wasn't doing so well.

The handler knew Clint could handle anything thrown at him, but even in the few days that Barton had been there, Phil could see the darkness seeping out of the younger agent, just so he could blend back into that life. Coulson was just hoping it wasn't permanent.

They had a signal that would alert Phil to any problems and Clint's need for an extraction, otherwise Phil would just be keeping his eyes peeled for Clint taking out Dexter and needing his exit plan.

The young agent had already been shown which vents would lead him outside. He had the route memorized, but getting to the vent was going to prove tricky, that was Coulson's cue to provide a distraction so the archer could slip out undetected.

He wished they had been able to communicate with each other. Sometimes that was all Clint really needed, someone that he could vent his frustrations to. Phil had been helping him deal for the past two years, now Phil found that he was the one that needed to hear Clint's voice just to know that his agent was alright.

He had to be, or everything the handler had worked for over the last two years had been for nothing. Phil wouldn't accept that.

Clint would make it out of this mission or Phil would kick Fury's ass.

Phil smirked to himself and sat up straighter in his chair; Fury wouldn't even see him coming.

* * *

Clint sat in the mess hall the next day in the furthest corner of the room. He really didn't need a repeat of the other day; for him not to fight his hardest, to let the other guy beat him down, was _not_ what Clint was used to. And if it happened again he wasn't sure he could hold himself back.

He ate quickly, his eyes darting around the room for any potential threats. The two guys from yesterday came into view, though they didn't bother to give a second glance; the archer let out a sigh of relief.

He froze when he heard someone's voice behind him; his insides clenched painfully and he forced himself not to turn round. He counted to ten in his head and when he was sure they'd walked past him, he turned and watched them walk out of the mess hall. Clint closed his eyes and breathed deeply, it couldn't be him. It just couldn't.

He was about to stand when a hand gripped his shoulder. He almost groaned at his luck and was about to push the hand away when he saw who it was.

"Lucas." Barton breathed a sigh of relief.

Lucas chuckled and sat next to him while Fredrik sat across. Fredrik acknowledged Clint with a brief nod and started digging into his slop like it was actual food.

"You look like you've seen a ghost kid, you alright?" Lucas made a disgusted face as Fredrik finished his food in three bites, before pushing his own bowl over to his cousin, receiving a nod of thanks before the other inmate scarfed that one down too.

"Something like that. Just thought I saw someone I knew," Clint offered without too much detail.

"Well, as long as they don't give you any trouble," Lucas told him with a smile.

Clint sighed and stood. "If it is who I think it is, there's gonna be trouble."

"Give us a shout if you need anything Clint."

Clint smiled at Lucas and gave Fredrik a nod; he couldn't believe the man actually ate all of that so called food. If Clint didn't get out of here soon and get a proper meal, he was sure he might just kill someone, Dexter preferably.

The young archer walked out of the mess hall quickly and headed for his cell. Dexter should be out sometime today, so he had to be ready. He'd only been here three days and it was already three days too many. He laid on his bunk and thought about the voice he'd heard, it couldn't be who he thought it was, that would just be his luck; but then again, when did anything ever go right for him?

He guessed he'd find out soon enough, he just hoped that he would be out of here before that confrontation. The archer didn't think he'd be able to handle it all that well.

* * *

Clint lay awake most of the night again, he didn't dare let himself fall into a deep sleep here; you never know what could happen. He'd already been running on fumes for the past few days, barely getting more than an hour's rest, so without his approval, his body decided it needed more than an hour, and Clint found himself battling an invisible enemy.

_The young archer saw the dagger coming towards him, he raised his hands to defend himself but there was nothing there. He felt the familiar pain in his chest and raised his hand to touch where it was originating from. His fingers touched something wet and when he pulled his hand back all he saw was blood._

_He looked down at his chest and cried out when he saw the dagger buried in his chest, the pain felt like it had all those years ago, burning through him and the darkness threatening to pull him under_.

Barton's eyes snapped open and all his muddled brain could comprehend was a figure standing in front of him; he vaulted off the top bunk, landing a little more unsteadily than he would have liked. He glared at the man in front of him even as he reached up to touch his chest where the knife had been.

There was nothing there.

Goliath as Clint had nicknamed him, watched with something close to concern. "You alright buttercup?"

Clint just glared at the man, for asking a stupid question and also the nickname.

Goliath grunted and sat back on his bunk. "You were crying out in your sleep, someone named Barney."

Clint closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before staring back at the larger man. "Mind your own damn business."

The large man chuckled. "I wish that were possible, but as you can see…" He gestured around the small cell with his arms spread wide.

Barton sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair while the other rubbed across the old scar on his chest. That was all he needed now, to start remembering that fucked up night. He splashed some water on his face and pushed the last remnants of the nightmare out of his head; he needed to focus, get Dexter and get the hell out of here. He had the sinking feeling that it wouldn't be that easy.

The cell doors opened and Goliath stood. "Breakfast time." Goliath actually seemed to smile at the thought. Clint grimaced as he thought of what they considered food in prisons. He'd get Phil to grab him a burger when he got out of here, something big and greasy. His mouth watered at the image.

Now he just had to wait for Dexter to make an appearance and he could make his move.

* * *

Little did he know he was already being watched. A figure lurked in the shadows as the young agent sauntered past and disappeared into the mess hall. After a few moments man slithered behind, maintaining their surveillance and biding his time. Fingering the shiv in his pocket, he knew retribution would be swift in coming; all he had to do was get the archer alone. With a twisted smile plastered on his face, he disappeared into the crowd of inmates waiting in the breakfast line.


	5. Chapter 5

Authors Note: A huge thank you to everyone that reviewed! You make me do a happy dance...seriously ;)

Also a HUGE thanks to DevinBourdain, once again you rock!

Here is the big fight scene, hope you enjoy!

* * *

Clint barely touched the food in front of him, his eyes scanning the room quickly, efficiently. Barton didn't have to wait long before Dexter made a triumphant appearance in the mess hall. Clint scoffed, he wasn't sure how the man's head even fit in the room and for that alone the man needed to be taken down and peg or two.

A few other inmates got up and welcomed Dexter back while most just kept their heads down, not wanting to get involved with the man who stabbed another inmate in such a public fashion as meal time. Clint could see why they thought he was a little intimidating, the guy was built like a boxer, broad shoulders and stood at roughly six feet. It also looked like he'd gotten a few new tattoos since his time with SHIELD.

Dexter sat down with a few of his followers. Clint thought they were pathetic, hanging on the man's every word like he was some sort of god. _Not a chance_. Clint kept watching him, his eyes narrowing when he noticed the ex-agent slide another plastic knife into his pocket. Jeez this guy really didn't learn anything.

He knew he would have to take Dexter out before he dispatched another poor soul in this place, finding himself back in solitary. Clint really wasn't planning on sticking around that long. A tray slamming down on the table Clint was sitting at had him snapping his gaze back around. He almost sighed in relief when he saw Fredrik, the man giving him an apologetic look before sitting across from him. Clint nodded in greeting before glancing back at Dexter. He wasn't even looking in Clint's direction, obviously wouldn't think of Clint as any kind of threat towards him. Which meant he was overly confident, that would work in his favour.

"Hey Clint," Lucas greeted as he took his seat.

"Lucas."

They ate in silence for a minute or two before Dexter and his faithful followers walked over to Shaky, the man that had been brought in at the same time as Clint. The poor man was sitting alone, not making any eye contact with anyone, he almost jumped a foot off the chair when Dexter slammed his meaty fist on the table with a large predatory smirk.

Shaky averted his eyes, wouldn't even look at Loran. Clint noticed a few other inmates getting a little nervous and moving away, either out of the mess hall or to another table further from trouble.

Dexter grabbed Shaky's tray and dropped it onto the floor. "Eat up!" He ordered.

Clint's eyes narrowed and he made to stand but a firm grip on his shoulder pulled him back into the chair. "Leave it Clint," Lucas told him.

The young archer glared at him but didn't move towards the scene taking place, instead he turned back to see what Dexter was going to do to Shaky. The man did as he was told and got on to his hands and knees and started eating the food off of the floor while the others laughed. Clint saw the tears rolling down Shaky's cheeks and felt his blood boil. Dexter was a bully and Clint had no trouble showing him the error of his ways.

This time when he stood and Lucas made to grab him, he knocked the man's hand away shaking his head and his eyes flashed a warning at the other man. Lucas sighed shaking his head. _Kid was gonna get himself killed_.

Clint knew this probably wasn't his best plan, but then again when had any of his plans worked out? He usually ended up on plan E or F and this would be no different. He couldn't just stand by and let Dexter humiliate the poor man. He really didn't know what the guy had done to deserve being put in a place like this, but as Clint watched Shaky get his face pushed into the food by Dexter's foot, he found that it really didn't matter what he'd done; Loran was going down.

"Leave him alone."

Dexter's eyes widened as he turned to see Clint glaring daggers from a few feet away. One of Dexter's followers moved towards Clint but the ex-agent put a hand up to stop him. He turned to Clint and looked him up and down, then smiled. He obviously saw a young boy who was just trying to be tough, not a trained assassin who could wipe the floor with him.

"What are you going to do boy? Sneeze on me?" He and the others laughed.

Clint's eyes narrowed and he took another step forward. "I _said, _leave him alone," he repeated almost smiling as Dexter growled in annoyance. Clint wasn't playing his game, running away scared because he was told to and it was pissing the ex-agent off.

"You're dead boy; I've killed people for less," Dexter warned.

"Oh yeah? Well so have I." Clint motioned him forwards with his hand and a smirk. _Time to get this show on the road,_ he thought as the bigger man suddenly charged at him with a shout.

Clint dove to the left at the last second, grabbing an empty tray from the nearest table. Turning back to Dexter, he swung the tray full force at the man's head; Dexter staggering back a few steps, virtually unaffected by the hit. He spat blood on the floor, eyes like fire burning into Barton's soul. The archer knew he should feel a little intimidated in the face of such hatred, but he just grinned. He love to push boundaries in any situation, no matter the promise of pain.

Eyes ever watchful, Clint took in the positions of Dexter's followers but none appeared to be making a move on him yet; that meant he could focus on Dexter. The man swung his huge fist towards Clint's face; the former circus performer ducked under it and lashed out with a kick of his own. The bigger man caught his leg and was about to bring his fist down on Clint's knee when he felt the younger agent quickly use Dexter's firm grip on his leg to take his weight and kicked his other leg up to snap Dexter's head back. The hand on Barton's leg was released and he flipped back on his hands to land easily on his feet.

When he glanced up at the bigger man, Clint was happy to see blood pouring from his nose.

Dexter wiped the blood away with the back of his hand and gave Clint a knowing look. "You got some moves kid."

"Yeah, I thought you did too," Clint mocked, smiling when Dexter started throwing punches and kicks with lightning speed. He managed to duck or dodge the first few but wasn't so lucky with the kick to his ribs. He was knocked backwards into one of Dexter's thugs and pushed back towards the ex-agent. Dexter aimed a high kick at Clint's head which he just managed to duck under, dropping to the floor and swiping his leg out to knock the bigger man off balance. .

Then things got interesting.

Dexter's friends decided to join the fun but found Lucas and Fredrik blocking their paths; they quickly started throwing punches and it wasn't long before the whole room was caught up in the brawl. Clint noticed Shaky hiding under one of the tables and gave him a nod to stay put.

He should have known better, the brief lapse in concentration was all Dexter needed. Clint found himself flying through the air, landing with a thud on one of the tables before tumbling to the floor in a heap. His body groaned at the abuse, but he got to his feet quickly as Dexter rounded the table. Clint saw the plastic knife clutched in his hand and ducked as it was thrust towards his face. Dexter was getting angry that a young kid was managing to keep up with him. He aimed a kick at Clint chest, but the young archer managed to turn away just in time for it to be no more than a glancing blow. It still hurt like a bitch.

Clint heard a cry of agony from another inmate but didn't turn, he couldn't afford to get distracted now. He flew at Dexter this time, throwing a punch at the man's head which he ducked and threw a punch of his own. Clint dodged the hit and grabbed Dexter's fist, turning to pull the man over his back and onto the floor. He was surprised he'd managed it with how heavy the guy was. Dexter looked up at Clint in shock, then the rage took over; he quickly sprang to his feet and growled at the archer.

Clint was so focussed on Dexter that he didn't notice one of his lackeys come up behind and wrap his arms around Clint, pinning his arms to his sides. Dexter smirked and walked towards the archer twirling the knife in his hand. When he got close enough Clint kicked out, knocking the knife away, then bringing both feet up, slammed them into Dexter's chest. He was sure he heard ribs breaking and smiled when Dexter doubled over in pain, a howl of agony escaping his lips.

Then the archer thrust his head back into the other guy's face, until the satisfying crack of crushed bone filled the room. Instead of the man's grip loosening, it tightened. Clint stomped his heel down on the goon's foot, causing the man to cry out, then Clint slammed his head back again; this time the grip loosened enough that Clint got his elbow free and jabbed it into the man's ribs. He stumbled back in pain, blood pouring from his broken nose.

When he turned back to Dexter the man was already throwing a fist at his face; Clint moved but just not quickly enough. The blow caught him in the side of the head and for a moment he saw stars; the guy's fists were like bricks. Clint took another hit to the face, stumbling back a step. He kicked out with his right leg but Dexter blocked it and was suddenly in the younger agent's face, his right hand wrapped around Clint's neck, the other gripping the bright orange jumpsuit. He had Clint bent backwards over one of the tables, squeezing the life out of him. The archer fought back, kicking and struggling to pull Dexter's hand away, but the man didn't budge.

Then Clint felt a plastic fork being placed into his hand from under the table, _Shaky_. He smiled and gripped it tightly in his left hand, fingers coiling around his salvation.

Dexter leaned in close enough that their noses were almost touching. "So this is what SHIELD sent after me huh? Disappointing."

"I have….that…..effect," gasped Barton.

Clint gripped the fork in his hand and used his thumb to break two of the prongs, leaving the one in the middle. He was starting to feel light-headed and black spots danced across his vision, then he brought the plastic fork up into Dexter's neck. He hit the carotid artery, the man would be dead within minutes from blood loss. Dexter's eyes widened in shock as he clutched at the plastic weapon still stuck in his neck and pulled. He collapsed to the floor in a bloody mess.

The archer sat up slowly rubbing his aching throat; it felt like his wide pipe had been crushed.

Clint saw the guards making their way towards him looking majorly pissed. He sighed knowing he was about to get a beat down, but at least Dexter was no longer a problem. He slid off the table and helped Shaky out from under it; the man stared at Clint in awe and perhaps a little bit of fear. Clint was about to ask if he was alright when Shaky' eyes widened, looking past Clint's shoulder.

The young archer spun around expecting to see a pissed off Dexter standing in front of him but instead it was someone else, and everything inside him froze. He blinked in shock and stared down at the bloody hand that had stabbed him in the stomach with a shiv. The handmade knife was pulled out and Clint almost dropped to the floor.

Lucas and Fredrik were shouting his name and trying to get to him but were held back by the guards. Clint couldn't take his eyes off the man in front of him.

"Looking pretty good for a dead guy, little brother," Barney sneered. "Looks like you've got more lives than a cat."

"Barney…how?" Clint's thought were a jumbled mess, at first he thought he was either seeing a ghost or was hallucinating, but now he realised it really was his brother standing in before him; the brother that had stabbed him, left him to die a long time ago. He just couldn't believe his brother had stabbed him for a second time. His legs started to feel like they wouldn't be able to hold him upright for much longer, and he saw the guards pushing inmates out of the way as one of them grabbed Barney and pulled him back. Clint could still see the smirk on his face as he slumped forwards, his hand over the bloody wound in his stomach.

Lucas and Fredrik were pushed to the ground and Clint found himself quickly following them, but without the extra push. When the guards finally got to him and pulled his arm behind his back to secure him, the darkness had already settled in.

Shaky looked around as much as he could from his position on the floor, most of the other inmates were either unconscious, managed to escape the brawl, or like himself had hid to escape injury. He watched as the guards turned over the young man that had saved him, blood covered the front of the orange jump suit. He couldn't believe that the young guy had stood up for him; he wasn't sure why the smaller man had but he was grateful.

Stretchers were brought in and the medical staff took over. Quickly taking the injured or in Dexter's case, the body, to the infirmary. The guards shook their heads at the destruction the fight had caused, tables were overturned, blood pooled on the floor and some of the walls. They had been watching from the cameras and placing bets on who would win in the fight between Clint and Dexter; by the time they realised the fight was spiralling out of control, it was too late and Dexter was dead.

Now they would have to explain to the warden and there was no doubt the man would not be very happy.


	6. Chapter 6

Authors Note: To all who reviewed; **JRBarton, Hawaiichick, Lollypops101, Kimbee, Bookdancer, Janechen88, DesignedByFate, R. , Dani9513, Purastones **and** guest**.

You are all AWESOME!

And to my beta **DevinBourdain**, you are fantastic and helped me make this story even better. Thanks ;)

* * *

**1 Day Later**

Clint wanted to shoot whatever was making that damn ringing noise. His eyes snapped open when he heard a man's voice and he immediately regretted the action because pain exploded in his head.

The blurry figure standing over him was saying something but he couldn't' make it out. He frowned in confusion, was the ringing coming from his head?

"Clint? Clint…..can you…..hear me?"

The young agent frowned, that sounded like Phil, but that couldn't be right, Phil wasn't at the prison, was awaiting Clint's escape _from_ prison.

He must have said something out loud because Phil ended up answering him. "We organised the ambulance that was called; we sent undercover agents in to get you." Phil looked worried at his young charge.

Clint relaxed against the pillows and sighed, closing his eyes and focussing on his breathing. When he opened his eyes again the world was a little bit clearer. Phil was watching him with barely concealed concern.

"You alright?" Phil asked, knowing it was a stupid question; how could anyone be alright after being in prison for four days, then getting stabbed.

Clint didn't answer, the familiar wall Phil hated was being built once again, keeping him out. Phil could practically see the shutters going up and sighed. He knew this would happen.

"You want to talk about it?" He asked and sat down in the chair next to the bed.

The archer glanced at him but didn't say anything. Clint knew Phil would understand, he would probably even offer to help, but right now all Clint wanted to do was forget. Forget that his brother had been the one to stab him for a second time. He'd never forget the look of hate on his brother's face for as long as he lived.

Clint still wasn't sure what he'd done to his brother to have this sort of vendetta against him; he only ever looked up to Barney. Phil was suddenly squeezing his hand and Clint realised tears had started to stream down his cheeks. Damn it.

Phil was struggling to understand, he knew Clint hadn't wanted to go to the prison, and even getting stabbed wasn't the worst thing that had happened to the archer in their two years of working together. He knew something must have happened in there, something he hadn't seen. He watched the emotions play across Clint's face before the wall was firmly back in place. Phil needed to say something to get the kid to open up.

Instead of pushing it, like he would with any other agent, he just sat there, giving the archer all the support he could without talking. They sat in silence for almost an hour; Phil had pulled out a magazine and read while Clint lay with his eyes closed. He wasn't sleeping, he just didn't want to face anyone right now. Clint was surprised when the words started pouring out of his mouth.

"It was my brother," he stated quietly.

Phil frowned and sat forward, placing the magazine on the table. "What was your brother?" Phil closed his eyes when he realised what Clint meant. His next words confirmed it.

"My brother stabbed me…again." Clint's hands gripped the sheets as he told his handler. Phil placed his hand over Clint's and squeezed.

"I'm so sorry kid." Phil just wanted to pull the archer into a hug; he couldn't understand why the kid couldn't catch a break. It was almost like some higher power had it in for him. Coulson paused as he realised what else Clint had said. "Again?"

Clint looked down at the hand covering his and focussed on that. "He stabbed me when I was fifteen and left me to die. I guess he tried to finish the job in prison."

Phil was gobsmacked with this new information. The kid's own brother had stabbed him, then years later, did it again. Phil shook his head wondering how Clint managed to turn out as well as he had. He knew Clint had a darker side inside him, but the kid was fighting to be good, had been since before Phil had even found him in that prison just over two years ago.

Clint was a survivor, had been since he was just a boy. Phil knew the kid had been a thief, but he only stole food or money. He never hurt anyone, and the only reason he was caught was because the other guy he had robbed the shop with had shot the owner and took off. Clint wouldn't leave though, he'd stayed until the ambulance and police arrived, knowing that he would be sent away for it.

"I know there isn't really much I can say to make you feel better Clint, but I just want you to know that I will never hurt you or betray you, in any way. I trust you with my life and I hope that one day you will feel the same. You are better than him Clint, in every way." Phil watched as Clint's eyes widened at his words.

"I do trust you Phil, more than I have trusted anyone in a long time," Clint replied quietly and Phil smiled, squeezing his hand again before standing.

"Get some rest Clint, you deserve it. I'll be back soon."

Clint nodded and sunk into the soft mattress. He was exhausted from the drugs they were currently pumping into his system. _Damn those doctor's_.

Phil watched as his young charges' eyes slid shut and his breathing evened out before closing the door quietly and heading to the garage.

There was someone he had to go see.

* * *

**Texas State Penitentiary **

Phil sat in the chair in the small room and waited. On the outside he appeared to be the calm collected agent he always was but on the inside he was a bubbling cauldron seething rage. The guards unlocked the door and pushed Barney inside; one guard was about to secure the prisoner to the table when Phil held up his hand.

"There's no need for that."

The guard shook his head, "I'm sorry but its protocol." He moved forward again but this time Phil flashed his badge and glared. "Leave!"

The first guard looked back at the second guard standing at the door. "We'll be right outside, just in case."

Phil nodded not bothering to look at them now, his gaze was on Barney sitting in the chair across from him. Barney looked nothing like Clint and he would have been hard pressed to believe they were brothers until Barney stared straight at him. The eyes, they were the same.

"You sure told them." The older Barton smiled leaning back in the chair like he didn't have a care in the world, analysing the man in the suit across from him. He would have thought lawyer at first, but the man had flashed a badge, so he was obviously someone in law enforcement.

Coulson didn't take the bait, just sat staring, putting Barney on edge.

"So what do you want? Because I'm pretty sure it wasn't to sit there and ogle at my good looks." Barney chuckled and then almost jumped out of his seat when the man in the suit lunged across the table grabbing his head and slamming it down on to the hard table. Phil kept his grip on Barney's hair and leaned in close to the man's ear.

"You are nothing, you will always be nothing and I will make it my life's mission to make your life a living hell. I'm a friend of your brothers," Phil hissed.

Barney sat up when Phil removed his hand and wiped the blood from his nose. Smirking he asked, "Is he dead?"

The older Barton found his head slammed painfully against the table for a second time. "No he isn't."

Barney's eyes rose in surprise. "Seriously, that kid _just_ won't die."

Phil really wanted to beat the shit out of him right then but he held back. "You should watch who you piss off Barney. Like I said, Clint is a friend of mine and I have a lot of influence. Your ass is mine, and I will make damn sure you are stuck here until the day you die; you will have no chance of parole. I'll make sure of it."

"You can't do that!" Barney shouted and stood.

Phil punched him in the face before heading to the door. "Just watch me."

Barney's shouts of anger were like music to Phil's ears as he walked away.

Phil had one more thing to take care of before heading back to his young charge. He stepped into another smaller room further down the hall, the guard standing outside unlocking the door and letting him in.

Coulson waited until the door was shut behind him before walking towards the table in the centre of the room and sat down. The agent had stared down men far tougher than this; the intimidation tactics of the man before him would not ruffle Phil today. Opening the folder, Phil began to read out loud, "Lucas Franklin Weir, charged with assault of a police officer, three counts of armed robbery and one charge of murder in the first."

Lucas growled at the man in the suit. "I know what my charges are! What the hell do you want?"

Phil calmly sat back in the chair. "I want to know why?"

"Why what?" The bigger man frowned.

The agent flipped the file closed and stared at Lucas with a frightening intensity. "The fight in the cafeteria, why did you help him?"

"Who? The kid?"

Phil nodded.

"He reminded me of my nephew, and he _is_ just a kid."

Coulson smiled. "I'm a friend of his, and I'm here to give you a chance."

The bigger man folded his arms over his chest. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I know you didn't mean to kill the shop keeper, he decided to fight you for the gun and it went off. It was an accident, but you're feeling guilty because you got your nephew involved as the getaway driver and now he is in prison as an accessory. I watched the footage." Phil told him and Lucas found himself slumping down in the chair opposite the man in the suit.

"I shouldn't have involved him," Lucas said more to himself than to Phil.

"Probably not, but I like to think we learn from our mistakes," Coulson replied.

"Is Clint alright?"

The handler gave Lucas a smirk and nodded. "Yes he's fine. I can't say any more than that." The inmate nodded, he was glad. The kid had reminded him more of himself if he was honest. Lucas had been on the wrong side of the law most of his life, but now that he'd gotten his nephew involved, it had given him the much needed kick up the ass to do something good with his life. Helping Clint had seemed like the right thing to do.

"So what now?" Lucas asked. "I appreciate you coming down here and letting me know the kid is alright."

Phil slid a piece of paper towards the other man. Lucas looked at the paper and frowned.

"I'm anticipating what Clint is going to ask me to do for you. You and your cousin will be transferred to a minimum security prison, and I'm positive it's not too far from here." He smirked at the inmate's shocked expression.

"How?"

Coulson shrugged. "It helps to have friends in high places. You're a good man Lucas, you just didn't have someone come and offer you a new beginning. I know that Clint reminds you of yourself, well you remind me of what he would have been heading towards if I hadn't given him that chance."

Lucas finally smiled and held his hand out to Coulson. "Thank you." Phil shook the man's hand with a smile. "And take care of him."

The handler nodded and stood. "I will; you stay out of trouble. I don't want to have to come visit you again."

The large man chuckled. "It won't come to that." Coulson made to get up prompting Lucas to ask, "Hey, who are you anyway?"

"I'm Agent Phil Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division." The prisoner quirked an eyebrow at the obscenely long title. "I know. We're working on it," he said with an apologetic smile before putting the file back in his suit pocket and walking to the door. He knocked twice and waited for the door to be unlocked. Glancing back at the man who had helped save Clint, he gave him a nod of thanks before walking out.

Lucas sat back in the chair and stared at the door. He had no idea who Clint really was, but the kid obviously had some pretty powerful friends if they could get Franklin and himself moved. It was only when he looked down to re-read the paper the man had left that he noticed the name of the prison they would be moved to.

He couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face, it was the same prison his nephew was in.

Lucas hoped someday he would bump into Clint and thank him. Now he was the one getting the second chance and wouldn't mess it up.

* * *

When Phil walked into medical Clint was awake and sitting up in bed. Coulson smiled when he saw him and Phil opened the door taking his seat at Clint's side.

"You went to see him didn't you?" Clint spoke softly without any hint of anger; Phil had thought he might be pissed.

"Yes." Phil knew it was better to be honest; he wanted the kid to trust him after all.

"What did you do?"

Phil smiled. "I made sure he knew why it wasn't a good idea to hurt the people I care about. He won't be getting out of there Clint. I will make sure of that."

Clint nodded and seemed to think really hard about something. Phil waited, he was sure he'd get told not to interfere or something like that. He was shocked when Clint finally spoke.

"Phil?"

"Yes Clint?"

"Could you get me a cheeseburger?" Clint smiled and looked up at his handler.

Phil laughed and patted the kid's arm. "Of course I will kid."

Clint grinned and watched as the man stood and headed to the door. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have Phil in his life. He was more than just a handler, more than just a friend. He was someone who Clint trusted completely to never let him down and in their two-year partnership, Phil hadn't let him down yet. He was like the big brother Clint should have had.

He sighed as he leaned into his pillows, his mind conjuring up images of a juicy burger, and his mouth-watered at the thought.

_Please hurry up Phil_.

Clint had no doubt that he would.

The End...for now!

* * *

I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed this story and added it to your favourites. I have been blown away!

At the moment I am working on a new story that is going to be HUGE! If you have read 'Father and Son' I think you will like it, it's called 'Sanctuary'. Keep your eyes peeled.

More good news is I plan on doing a sequel to this story, here is a sneak preview.

'The Reaper'

It's just over a year since Clint had his mission in jail and a new assassin 'the Reaper' has been causing havoc for SHIELD. Three agents have been killed and Phil Coulson is feeling the stress of the situation. After a big fight with his young charge, Phil finds out Clint has taken off and must decide whether to go after his charge or stay and concentrate on finding the Reaper. He soon finds out that he won't have to look very far as the archer attracts trouble on his best day.

When the Reaper and the Hawk face against each other, it would be best to stay out of the way.


End file.
